


This Feeling Inside

by whiskeyandlonging



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandlonging/pseuds/whiskeyandlonging
Summary: Dean shares a quiet moment with his love.





	This Feeling Inside

**Author's Note:**

> This was submission for Kari’s 9.5k British Song Challenge. My song was Your Song by Elton John. Lyrics are italicized in the fic.

She’s making tea.

He shouldn’t be enchanted by something so simple. But there’s magic in her skin, in the way her hips sway to music only she can hear, in the way she’s delicate and strong in the same moment.

He watches as she flits across the kitchen, pouring milk and honey into a mug too big for her hands. It’s the only one she ever drinks from.

She’s still swaying to the silence, eyes focused on the book in front of her as she sips the Earl Grey.

He can’t take it any longer.

With careful footsteps, he approaches her from behind. She pauses for just a moment, listens intently. He can’t see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips when she recognizes the pattern of his footfalls.

Warm hands encompass hers and lower the oversized mug to the table. He lets his hands fall to her waist, his gentle hold encouraging her back against him ever so slightly. He lets go long enough to let one hand settle at her lower back while the other interlaces effortlessly with hers.

Her eyes shine up at him as she loops her free arm over his shoulder and lays her head above his heart. The steady beat beneath her ears is more soothing than any music could ever be.

She closes her eyes when he presses a kiss to her hair. She wants a long lifetime of moments like these. In another life, perhaps.

They move together, dancing in slow circles in the kitchen of an old war bunker.

After a while, she feels him slow until the only movement left is the gentle swaying of their bodies side to side. His breath hitches, lungs expand, like he’s preparing to say something important. She can see the contemplative hesitation on his face without looking up. And when he exhales, she knows he’s thought twice about whatever he wanted to say. It only makes her more curious.

When she meets his eyes, the hesitation melts away, and all that’s left is the warmth from his smile.

“What?” she smiles. He shakes his head. “Dean…”

He spins her out and dips her, earning a delighted laugh. He’ll never tire of that sound. He wants a long lifetime of listening to it. In another life, perhaps.

“You’re beautiful, Annie,” he whispers when she’s back in his arms. There’s more he wants to say, but doesn’t know how. The words are caught on his lips, so he licks them, tries to swallow the words down, hoping maybe they’ll come out right this time.

They don’t.

He fumbles around the feel of them, can’t quite shape the way he wants them to sound. The futility mixed with his need for her to know nearly chokes him. He clears his throat. Third time’s the charm, right?

She’s patient with him. She never tries to pry the words out of him, never rolls her eyes at his inability to articulate emotion well. She waits, knowing whatever this is, it’s important to him.

One look at those deep, kind eyes prompts the words to tumble from his lips.

“This world, this life…it’s dark. All hard edges and a thousand kinds of pain but-but then there’s you. An-and you’re so bright and gentle and good and… _Anyway- the thing is- what I really mean…_ ” He looks away, clears his throat, tries again. He breathes deep. “ _Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen._ ”

At this moment, they’re burning bright with love.

She feels his heartbeat accelerating where their chests are pressed together, and knows he has more to say. “I want a long lifetime of waking up to them.”

She presses up onto her tiptoes as he leans down. Their noses brush before their lips do.

They spend all night dancing in circles to music only they can hear.

Ten Months Later

The keys are in the ignition, and the engine is running, but Dean isn’t driving the Impala.

He’s sitting on the hood. He spends more time there than he does in the driver’s seat these days. It’s the only place she’ll sleep when she wakes up, inconsolable, in the middle of the night. The rumble of the engine soothes his newborn daughter just like it did for her mother after hunts.

The infant stirs in his arms, and he shushes her softly. When the soft cries start, he reclines back against the windshield and lays her tummy-down on his chest. The vibration of the Impala rumbles through him and calms her once again.

A tiny fist rubs at her eye as she yawns. She blinks sleepily, and he feels his heart swell when the sweet eyes she inherited from her mother look up at him. Exhausted by the simple movement, she rests her head against his chest again, her tiny mouth opening and closing with the sweet noises only babies can make.

When Dean’s certain she’s settled back into sleep, he whispers the thought he’s had every minute since her birth. “ _How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world._ ”

He’s looking forward to a long lifetime of moments like these.


End file.
